


Untitled

by katiebuttercup



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mary fixes things from the grave, The Final Problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 09:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11597988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebuttercup/pseuds/katiebuttercup
Summary: Post TFP"What do you need?" He's lost count how many times Molly had asked him that question. He's never asked her.





	Untitled

"It's not going to go away," Mary says, she's leaning against the newly wall papered wall. 

"I know you don't want advice--"

"And yet you're still talking," Sherlock says. He doesn't look at her. He's scared to look at her-he's scared of seeing nothing. 

Mary laughs, he realises how much he misses that sound. He misses how John sounds when he was with her.

"Well technically you're talking to yourself, but I like the sass," Mary says. She's moved from the wall to the chair next to him. He remembers the day Molly had sat beside him. How natural it had felt even when John's absence had felt like a staggering blow that left him reeling. 

"So how come I'm here and not Molly?" Mary asks. Sherlock flinches as if she had struck him. 

"Ohhhh!" Mary peered at him, she glows in the afternoon sunlight, so beautiful it hurt. She sounds sad and triumphant. 

"You are trying to rewrite your brain again, mention Molly--"

His mind instinctively lurches away, scrambling for safer ground, like a child with a burnt hand. 

Too hot, hurts.

"You can't delete this Sherlock," Mary says, "deleting her means deleting you and it's far too late for that nonsense,"

"I'm trying to keep her safe," Sherlock says despite himself. She's not there, just a figment of his imagination.

"Oh it's chivalry now is it?" Molly continues blithely, "How's that working out for you?"

Sherlock flinches, his jaw clenching against a pain that's not physical. 

"I'm trying to do the right thing!" Sherlock snaps. His voice sounds dry, it cracks under the pressure. 

"Oh please!" Mary scoffs, "you are doing the thing you do when you hit something you can't deduce"

Mary cuts a figure of eight into the air and suddenly every encounter, every moment he has with Molly flashes before him. 

Sherlock looks away, his neck aching with whiplash but everywhere he looks there is Molly. 

"Emotion Sherlock its all here, follow the breadcrumbs, it should be easy enough even for you," 

Mary flips through the memories like clothes on a rail, he catches flickers of emotion but they aren't Molly's. They are his. 

"How many times have you gone over these, Sherlock? Examined Molly's face, used what you found to manipulate her just the way you needed to to get what you wanted? All those times and you never noticed the way you look at her when she's not looking." 

"I don't count," Molly's voice echoes into infinity. There is no sadness just a grim reality. She's gone with a flip of her pony tail. 

"Ouch, look at your little face," Mary says, "that hurts and you don't even know why."

"What do you need?" Molly asks, she's resolved, ready as ever to give him what he needs. 

What did Molly need? 

Sherlock shuts his eyes but his mind, his greatest comfort is now his prison.

He flexes a muscle he hasn't used in a while.

"I'll tell you what," Mary says, "I'll do it for you, break it off that's the best way right? Clean break,"

She's got Sherlock's phone in her hand, fingers poised over the keys. 

"I'm sorry Molly I didn't mean what I said--" Mary says as she types, "please forgive me--"

"What are you doing?" Sherlock snaps, leaping out of his chair, making a grab for a phone that doesn't exist from a person who is dead. 

"Oh don't worry I'll let her down gently. I'm sure she'll let you off the hook. Good old Molly, bit of a doormat but she has her uses, right?" Mary says brightly typing away. 

"Don't you dare!" Sherlock roars, grabbing at the phone "don't talk about her--" he grabs the phone. He expects to grab thin air but when he blinks he holds the phone in his hand. His real phone. He looks up. Mary is gone. 

He stares at the screen. Molly's number open to create a text message. Sherlock types without thinking. 

SHERLOCK  
I meant what I said. What do you need? 

He pauses over the send button. He wants to say more but that's him, his need to explain. He needs to think about Molly. He needs to listen. 

He presses send. Leans back in his chair his mind blissfully silent.


End file.
